


i've never seen my colors so alive

by demistories



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, Enjolras & Cosette Fauchelevent Friendship, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4524294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demistories/pseuds/demistories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first meeting began with a shattering champagne glass. </p><p>The more she looked at him, the more familiar he seemed. Probably because she saw similar features when she looked in the mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've never seen my colors so alive

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tetris](https://archiveofourown.org/works/789836) by [chapstickaddict](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapstickaddict/pseuds/chapstickaddict). 



> This is actually only slightly inspired by Tetris. When I was reading Tetris and trying to figure out how Cosette and Enjolras would meet, I kind of really wanted them to meet at the fancy event Enjolras went to, cliche glass dropping and all. 
> 
> Thousands of words more than I expected to write later, here we are. 
> 
> Note: as said in the tags, there's minor injury, but very very minor and it's almost completely undescribed. I know nothing about the foster system or adoption, and certainly nothing about figuring out if you have a long lost sibling, so please take those bits with a grain of salt. 
> 
> Title from Perfect Picture by Bea Miller.  
> Completely un-beated because I live on the edge ~~lies~~ , and all I own are my many, many mistakes.

Their first meeting began with a shattering champagne glass. 

Cosette loved her parents to death, and she loved helping out with her papa's charities even more, but she really had had enough of the events. She loved helping people. She loved talking to people and hearing their stories, playing with kids and chasing them around parks, she loved making people's day, and if it was making a difference in the community and people's lives, then that was a bonus. She didn't do it for moral reasons or because she saw people less fortunate than her as people who needed to be 'saved' or whatever ridiculous thing that pompous rich man said earlier in the evening, she just liked seeing people smile. But events like this made her feel so fake. They were an opportunity for rich elitists to throw around money. While it was true that some of them did care, in Cosette's experience, most were just doing it so they could say they donated an enormous sum to charity. If she wasn't needed at them, she'd never go.

But they needed the money so they could continue helping people as a nonprofit. Even the smallest bit of money could make a difference, more programs for the kids, better meals during camps, more classes, more ways to help. The least she could do was wring as much money out of their guests as possible.

It was almost painstakingly easy. Cosette was, as one slightly tipsy man had said while trying to grab her, 'a classic beauty'. Ringlets of golden blonde hair reached her lower back, pale skin that she perfected with concealer and powder because apparently the light freckles that dusted her shoulders and face were 'unappealing', a height that was neither too short nor too tall when in heels, a petite form, curves that were brought out by her dress, a light blush that was absolutely in no way makeup, lips made to look more luscious with lipstick, and bright blue eyes made larger with eyeshadow, eyeliner, a steady hand, and hours of practice. Before each event, as she made herself up into exactly what the male gaze wanted, she reminded herself that this was helping people. She could ignore all of the sexist comments and completely inappropriate touches for a few hours. Usually. 

She sipped the seltzer water in her champagne glass as she let her gaze sweep the room. The usual suspects were present, the decorations impeccable, minimal amounts of food being eaten, and far too many expensive gloves for her taste. While her papa was extremely wealthy, it was impossible for her to forget where she had come from, where both her papa and dad had come from. And it wasn't a place where one's gloves cost thousands of dollars each. 

She smiled and welcomed a couple that approached her. They were gushing about how gorgeous and well attended the event was. She didn't miss the way the man had given her a once over, but the woman he had introduced as his wife did. Either that, or she didn't care. She didn't seem to hear his comment that Cosette also looked "absolutely delectable" either.

Cosette just hoped that her grimace looked enough like a smile, and that there was less of a bite to her thanks then she wanted there to be. Musichetta would say that she had 'dressed to distress', but personally, Cosette considered it more of 'dressed to make rich, sexist, usually white men grab for their wallets because for whatever misogynistic reason, they assumed donating more money would get her to sleep with them'.  

She knew it was a look that worked for her, but she prefered dresses that were more flowy and loose to the one she was wearing— blood red, skin hugging, short enough and with a low enough cleavage to attract attention but not enough to give her parents heart attacks. It wasn't uncomfortable, and she had gotten used to the stares — she _wanted_ them to stare, she reminded herself, that was the _point_ — but she felt absolutely nothing like herself. She felt like she was in a disguise. And with the disguise came the slightest change of behavior. Chin held higher, shoulders rolled back, a less genuine smile, forced laughter, emotions never reaching her eyes. She was playing at being one of the rich elite. She'd danced the line between wealthy and poor her entire life, and she was currently standing with both feet planted on the side of the rich. 

"You're a gem," Cosette insisted as Musichetta handed her another fluke of seltzer and a plate of appetizers. "I'm starved."

"Well we can't have that," Musichetta said with a winning smile. "The bell of the ball can't faint away, we don't even have a prince to wake her up with true love's kiss!"

Cosette just shook her head. "I'm going to sleep for a good twenty hours after this.

" _Good_." Musichetta nudged Cosette with her shoulder. "You've been running yourself ragged over this event, and you aren't even in charge of it."

"Yeah, but—"

"Ah, ah!" Musichetta held up a finger. "No buts. You and I are going straight home, sleeping all tomorrow, and then pigging out on that really good Thai food before having another hectic week at camp with the kids." She dropped her voice so Cosette was the only one who could hear it. "And we are going to forget about all of these assholes until the next event. I'd say we get drunk on the champagne and forget about them right now, but, you know."

Cosette nodded. "Fair deal. If you let me choose what show we binge watch, I'll by the food."

Musichetta stole a spinach puff from Cosette's plate. "And that, my darling Cosette, is why you are my favorite person in the entire world. Have I told you yet that you look drop dead gorgeous? And also already look pissed off enough that if anyone says the wrong thing to you, your look alone will make them drop dead?"

Cosette just rolled her eyes and drank from her glass. 

"Darling, it's only been a few hours. The night is still young. Stay strong for me?"

Cosette met Musichetta's pleading eyes. "Why?" she asked. "Because I can't buy you food if I go to prison for homicide?"

"Exactly." Musichetta stole another puff. "I will say though, it's worse than usual. If I get called an 'exotic beauty' one more time, I might lose it. So we'll stay strong and ignore it all together, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me. And stop stealing all my food!" She held the plate away from Musichetta. 

"I remind you I got you that food. And am your lovely roommate and co-worker who very kindly let you borrow my red lipstick." 

Cosette started to reply when someone loudly whispered, "Holy _shit_."

Her and Musichetta turned to see one of the guests staring in shock. Behind Cosette, someone said, "Courf? What is it?" 

And the champagne glass slipped from the fingers of the person standing next to Courf. 

Both Cosette and Musichetta snapped into mother mode immediately, a side effect from working with kids for the past few months. They picked up the larger pieces of glass, and the one who dropped his glass bent down and helped sweep up the smaller pieces. 

"Apologies," he said. "I didn't mean to."

Cosette waved it off. "It's fine. Just a champagne glass, easy to replace."

"Combeferre," he said. "So you know who to b—"

"Cosette," she interrupted quickly. "And that's Musichetta. But please, don't worry about it."

As they stood, handing the glass shards to someone working the event, a man was walking up to Courf. Although the strides he was taking and the purpose he was taking them with made walking seem like a poor descriptor. "Are you alright?" he demanded. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Musichetta did a double take, and then said, "What the actual fuck."

Cosette studied the newcomer, trying to find the cause of the shock. He had curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes, and the sharpest gaze she'd ever seen. He stood with a confidence and ease that she thought was unattainable before, and his red tie was loose around his neck. She met his eyes, and he narrowed them. 

Combeferre adjusted his glasses. "Well..."

Cosette smiled and offered her hand. "Cosette Fauchelevent. Sorry about the disturbance and really," she turned to Combeferre, "you don't have to worry about it."

Courf shook her hand enthusiastically. "Courfeyrac! And this is Enjolras. Who is this breaktaking beauty?"

Musichetta rolled her eyes, forgoing the fake smile altogether. "At least you seem genuine,” she muttered. “I’m Musichetta." She looked between Enjolras and Cosette. "We aren't in the movies, right? Is this real life?"

"Is this just fantasy?" Courfeyrac continued with wide eyes. 

"I don't exactly understand what you're saying," Enjolras said, frowning. 

Combeferre exchanged an exasperated look with Courfeyrac. "People look similar all the time, it might not mean anything."

Cosette's attention snapped back to Enjolras. The more she looked at him, the more familiar he seemed. Probably because she saw similar features when she looked in the mirror. 

He had a stronger jawline and more prominent cheekbones, altogether his face was more angular and sharper where hers was rounded and soft. But his eyes were so similar to her own that it felt like someone had copy-pasted them. His hair curled like hers did when it was shorter or humid, and it was nearly the same color. Their skin tones were similar enough. She knew enough of her face was changed by makeup that he might not see it, but she did. 

Musichetta was thinking the same. "Without your makeup on, Cos..." 

"R would be going on and on about facial structure right now, trust me," Courfeyrac said. "Any chance you two were separated at birth? I mean, whoa!"

Cosette didn't even hesitate before saying, "I was put in the foster system when I was three, with no real information on my family, and adopted when I was eight." She'd repeated it enough times that she hardly had to think about the explanation. If she did think about it for much longer or much harder, she would have to steal some of that champagne that she refused to drink at events. 

The three seemed surprised by her honesty. Musichetta just scoffed. 

"Trust you, actual Disney princess, to have a long lost sibling." Musichetta shook her head. "Yeah, that drinking rule we have? I might have to break it."

* * *

Their second meeting began with an almost spilled coffee.

Their first meeting hadn't ended with much being discovered. Musichetta had disappeared to go and talk to more donors, and Enjolras had stared at her for a long time. Combeferre had insisted that they all exchange numbers, and while she'd gotten texts from both Combeferre and Courfeyrac, she hadn't heard anything from Enjolras. She was a little scared to, if she was completely honest.  

It was a relatively new coffee shop to her, one her and Musichetta had run across after a long day of wrangling kids. The pastries were delicious, the coffee was caffeinated, and it was small and secluded. That was really all they needed. Quickly, it'd become their go-to place, complete with a smirking barista named Eponine who didn't even ask if they wanted the usual anymore, she just made it as soon as they entered. 

"What—?" 

Cosette turned to fully face the man. His dark, wild curls were half hidden under a beanie, and his t-shirt was splattered with paint. "Sorry?" she asked. "Can I help you?"

He just stared at her for a long moment before saying, "Ep?"

Eponine didn't even look up from where she was sorting bills. "Grantaire, this is Cosette. Cosette, Grantaire. Musichetta is the one sitting at the table in the corner, she's Cosette's friend." She slammed the cash register shut. "Now you're all acquainted." She grabbed a mug.  

"But—"

The bell on the door jingled. 

"I mean, have you thought about it?" someone asked. "Really thought about it? If you consider all of the arcs and foreshadowing, it does make sense. It could have been executed better symbolically, but— Oh my."

"Jehan," Eponine said automatically, her back to them. 

Jehan was shorter than Grantaire, but taller than Enjolras, who was just behind Jehan. Enjolras raised an eyebrow when his gaze landed on Cosette. She just shrugged in return. At her table in the corner, Musichetta was trying not to laugh. 

"Here Cose—" Eponine froze when she turned around. 

Cosette lunged and grabbed the mug from her before she dropped it. 

Musichetta burst out laughing. 

Wordlessly, Grantaire took the mug from Cosette and put it on the counter. He pulled Enjolras in front and spun him so both Enjolras and Cosette were facing him. "Jesus fucking Christ," he whispered.

Jehan just nodded. 

“I never would’ve noticed if they weren’t in the same room, but…” Eponine leaned over the counter. "Okay, yup. That's freaky. I'm never going to be able to not see it."

Musichetta stopped laughing and made her way over. "We've already done this," she said with a snort. 

"You look different," Enjolras said passively. 

"Washed off about a pound of makeup," Cosette said as nonchalantly as possible. He was right though, without the makeup, she looked more like him. Their lips were almost the same, and she could see that he had light freckles on the bridge of his nose. Without the eye makeup, their eyes looked even more identical. And with her hair piled on the top of her head and not framing her face, their faces had a similar shape to them. 

"Courfeyrac said you'd start ranting about facial structure," Enjolras said, crossing his arms. "Go on ahead."

Grantaire grabbed both their chins and turned their heads. "I just— Your cheekbones and jawlines! I..." He dropped their chins. "I need a sketchbook. I need to draw you. And then I need to literally deconstruct your faces and draw the skulls because—" He looked around, grabbing a pen and flyer Eponine held out. 

As Grantaire leaned over a table, sketching rapidly, Jehan just smiled. "Are you related?"

Cosette and Enjolras glanced at each other before shrugging. 

"All I know," Cosette said honestly, "is that my mother's name was Fantine. She made my papa promise to get me out of the foster system when she died."

Jehan hummed thoughtfully.

Musichetta nodded in agreement. "I did some digging too, I got zip. Unless you're going to do a DNA test—"

“Eponine, the lighting in here is awful,” Grantaire complained. 

Eponine rolled her eyes and rested her elbows on the counter. “So you keep telling me. No more discount coffee for you.”

“Fuck you and your shitty lighting for ruining the creative process.”

Jehan patted him on the back. “You could just take a picture and do this in your actual sketchbook with all your actual supplies. Have them stand outside, get them in natural light.”

Grantaire looked up. “That might work better.” He gave Cosette an apologetic smile. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think I do?” 

Musichetta shrugged. “Don’t sell the pictures or drawings and don’t post them on the internet without asking permission? Don’t use the pictures for anything she hasn’t approved of?” 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Grantaire promised. 

“That’s specific,” Eponine said. “Come back after your photoshoot to grab your coffee.” She turned to another customer.

“We work with kids,” Musichetta said. “Photo release forms and parents complaining and asking about photo release forms are a constant thing in our lives.” She picked up Cosette’s coffee. “I’ll be at our table, have fun being a model.”

Grantaire all but dragged Cosette and Enjolras outside, turning their heads every direction as he snapped photos, debating about Transcendentalism with Jehan the entire time. Then he was handing her his phone and telling her to put in her number. 

“Any friend of Apollo’s is a friend of mine,” he said with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows when Enjolras let out an exasperated sigh. 

Jehan frowned. “Does that make Cosette Artemis?”

“We don’t actually know if we’re related,” she said, holding out Grantaire’s phone.

Jehan grabbed it. “Do you mind if I put your number in? I want to keep up with the impending clone drama.”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “It was nice to see you again,” she said to Enjolras. 

He nodded. “By the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw you again soon.”

* * *

Their third meeting began with her on the ground.  

Cosette flipped through the book, humming to herself. It seemed interesting enough, but it wasn’t exactly what she was looking for. She needed something that would be relaxing at the end of a long day of camp. 

She glanced over to the YA section. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with a college student reading YA, there were just some tropes that she wasn’t the biggest fan of. Her eyes moved towards the books aged for middle schoolers. Something about the intense amount of fantasy and attention to plot instead of long winded romances was attractive. She enjoyed romances, but maybe she needed dragons. 

As she stepped into the main aisle, someone crashed into her, knocking both of them to the ground. 

“I’m so so sorry!” he apologized, flustered. “I wasn’t looking and I should’ve been looking and I just—” 

He met her eyes and she smiled. “It’s fine. I wasn’t looking either.”

A bright red blush crept up his neck. “Uh… Right. Hi. I— Uh... Sorry! I was apologizing, oh god I am really sorry.” He scrambled to his feet and held out a hand. Cosette took it and he pulled her up. He glanced down at their hands and pulled his away. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your shopping experience or—”

“You’re not,” she promised. “If anything, you’re enhancing it.”

He blinked. “Uh…” He was cute when he was flustered. He was cute anyway, but he was definitely cute when he was flustered. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and then dropped to the ground to pick up the books he had dropped. 

Cosette kneeled down with him and reached for a book that had fallen under a shelf.  

“Marius? Why are you on the ground?”

Her hand froze as her fingers brushed the book’s cover. She shook the shock off and pulled the book out, leaning back and holding it out to Marius. “You must be Marius then,” she said with a smile.

Marius nodded. “Marius. Marius Pontmercy. And you don’t have to help,” he said quickly, "it's my own fault all of my stuff is on the ground."

“I want to,” she promised. She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked up to Enjolras. “Hello.”

He stared at her for a long second before saying, “You knocked her onto the ground?”

“It was an accident!” Marius said, mortified. “I didn’t—!”

Cosette put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s really okay.”

He clutched his books and nodded. He glanced to Enjolras and then back to Cosette. “I… You have a sister?”

Enjolras’ eyes flicked towards the ceiling. “Cosette, Marius. Marius, Cosette. We don’t know if we’re related. We know we look alike. Yes, we’ve met before. Can we pay and leave? I don’t want to leave Courfeyrac and Combeferre alone for too long, especially when Courf is cooking.”

“I thought Courf was a good cook,” Marius said, getting to his feet. 

Cosette stood up too. “Are you worried about your glassware?” she asked Enjolras with a smile. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “More like I’m worried that Courf is going to get distracted and set something on fire.”

“Distracted? I thought—” Marius’ eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, I didn’t think that they—”

“They aren’t,” Enjolras said. “They should be, but they aren’t. And I would really appreciate it if our apartment didn’t burn down.” He nodded to Cosette. “Sorry to cut this short.”

She waved him off. “It’s fine. I understand the worry. I’m sure I’ll see you soon enough anyway.” She smiled at Marius. “Oh, wait.” She grabbed his hand and pulled a pen from her purse, scribbling her number on his wrist and a heart below it. “We should get coffee sometime.”

Marius stared at the number. “Oh. Right. We should we uh…”

Enjolras shook his head. “Come on, Marius. You can gape like a fish in line, let’s buy those books so we don’t get back to the fire department hosing down the building.”

* * *

Their fourth meeting began with a bloody nose. 

It was a weekend, a day off. Musichetta was working at the department store, and Cosette had promised to make dinner. Since they were almost never home during the week, their fridge was almost empty, aside from the takeout leftovers that were slowly piling up. 

She hadn’t expected a trip to the store to be interrupted by a riot. 

There had been a protest, she knew that. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was about, she’d been too busy to really pay attention to it, but she knew it was supposed to be a peaceful protest. The people running and screaming and the police in riot gear said otherwise. 

She took shelter in the next open store. Her parents would freak out if they found out she got caught in a riot. A protest turned violent, she amended. She didn’t know who started the violence, if it was the police, then she shouldn’t consider it a riot. 

She should’ve expected other people who were caught up in it to be in the store. Other than the two bleeding men, it was nearly empty, no one stood at the counter, and the one employee she saw was avoiding them.

“Are you okay?” she asked a man who was holding his shirt to his cheek. 

He smiled. “It's just a flesh wound.”

“Sit down,” the other man said, pulling him to a seat. 

“Says the guy who’s bleeding profusely.”

“It’s just a bloody nose.”

“One hell of a bloody nose—”

“Is everyone okay?” 

She turned to see Enjolras standing in the doorway. She wasn’t even surprised anymore. There was a fire burning in his eyes, and a hint of worry that was relieved when his eyes landed on the two men. 

He sighed. “Thank god. Joly is freaking out.” Enjolras pulled the t shirt away from the man’s cheek. “Not bad.” 

“Not bad,” she echoed.

Enjolras straightened and noticed her for the first time. “What are you doing here?” She wasn't sure if he intended to sound as harsh as he did, but it rubbed her the wrong way.

“Trying not to get arrested,” she said. She knew she sounded cold, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.“My parents would actually kill me.”

“Oh, I’m _so sorry_. I’m sorry we’re trying to change the world for the better.”

Cosette couldn’t stop herself from letting out a bitter laugh. “Of course. I’m not even surprised.” Of course changing the world meant that him and his friends had to get hurt in the process. She wondered if he was even aware of the cuts on his arm or the fact that there was a bruise blooming on his cheek.

Enjolras glared. “I’m sorry you can’t see the point of helping people from the rich, white, elitist pedestal you’re standing on.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I remind you that we met at a charity event.”

“Charity event,” he spit back. “You mean the party where rich people threw money at each other.”

Crossing her arms, she stepped forward. “Maybe you didn’t see the name of the man in charge of the organization hosting the event. My father. I helped _run_ it. I’ve spent every weekday this summer running a free community summer camp for kids whose parents work during the day. I’ve participated in plenty of protests. Less than you I’m sure, but at least I know to get out when the police get involved, so I don’t get _hurt_!”

“Why do you care?” Enjolras snapped. “What investment do you have in me?” 

“What investment? Really? I can’t just worry about you? Regardless of your _face_ —” 

“I’m sure I’m interrupting something, but I don’t have a concussion, right?” the man with the bloody nose asked. Him and the other man were staring at them in confusion.

Cosette dug tissues out of her purse and stood in front of his chair. “No, we look similar, we know.” She handed him the tissues. “Did you get hit in the head or just the nose? Tip your head back.”

“Just the nose. Before you ask, my name is Feuilly, I’m 21, and it’s August 15, 2015.” He held a tissue to his nose and tipped his head back. “No headache, no dizziness, and my nose doesn’t hurt nearly enough to be broken.”

“Bahorel,” the other said, pulling his shirt away from his cheek for second. “How many stitches is Joly going to say I need?”

“Five,” Enjolras answered. 

“I’ll buy you a drink if you’re right. Actually, fuck that because I am going to need so many drinks after this. Just steal one of mine, I’m sure I won’t notice. Hey, Feuilly,” Bahorel twisted in his chair, “think R is up for getting totally hammered?”

Feuilly shrugged. “When isn’t he, honestly. If Joly let’s us leave the apartment, I’ll come with.”

Cosette’s phone started ringing. “Sorry,” she said. She answered it and held it to her ear with her shoulder as she grabbed Enjolras and started checking him for injuries. “Hey, Chetta." _  
_

_"Hey, don’t leave the apartment for a while.”_

She made a face. “A little late for that.”

There was a long pause, and then a slow, _“What.”_ Cosette pulled the phone from her ear and put it on the table, tugging Enjolras into a seat as Musichetta started yelling. _“Cosette what the_ fuck _! Are you okay? What the hell were you thinking?!”_

“How was I supposed to know that the protest would get violent?” she asked. She pulled a water bottle from her purse and wet a tissue from Feuilly. “We needed food.”

 _“Shit, way to avoid the important question._ Are you okay. _”_

“Chetta, I’m fine,” Cosette promised as she started cleaning Bahorel’s cut. “I got into a store as soon as I got caught up in it.” Bahorel winced. “Sorry.”

 _“I’m not the one with a fucking former police officer for a father. I’m not the one whose parents are seriously overprotective. If you have so much as a scratch—”_   

“Musichetta,” Cosette said seriously. “I’m _fine_. I know they’ll kill me if they find out, which they won’t. I’m not the one you should be worried about. Besides, you’re yelling. I don’t even have you on speaker.”

_“You can’t blame me for being upset! Wait, who am I worried about?”_

Cosette reached over and turned her phone to speaker as Musichetta’s voice became softer. “The people who were actually injured in the protest.”

 _“...if you get arrested I’m not bailing you out.”_  

She rolled her eyes. “Any of you wanted criminals?” 

Bahorel and Feuilly shook their heads, but shot a glance to Enjolras. 

“I’m not wanted,” he insisted. “I’ve only been arrested a few times.”

_“Holy shit, if that’s Enjolras I’m going to yell at him.”_

“Already done,” Cosette said. “But feel free to yell more.”

_“Thanks. Hey! Asshole!”_

Enjolras slumped back in his chair. “What is it?”

 _“It’s one thing when we’re meeting peacefully, but if you drag Cosette into something and she gets hurt, I’m going to fucking murder you. I will skin you alive and make a coat out of your skin. I will make jewelry out of your bones. And I will never get caught, because the police will be on my fucking side.”_  

Bahorel let out a low whistle. 

“I think it’s my decision if I get involved with protests,” Cosette said, “and please don’t use my dad to cover up murder.”

_“Whatever. How much you want to bet that Enjolras was the one who set up this protest?”_

Feuilly looked down for a second. “Fifty bucks.”

_“I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to guess you already knew he did, so you can’t bet.”_

“Hundred dollars,” Bahorel said.

 _“Same for you. But_ see _. If I knew Enjolras was going to be trouble, I never would’ve let you talk to him. I would’ve dragged you away the second that fucking glass shattered.”_

“Combeferre still wants to pay for that,” Enjolras said. 

_“So he speaks. I— Hold on.”_

There was some shuffling, and a new voice came on the phone. _“Hey! It’s Courf, you there Enj?”_

Enjolras leaned towards the phone. “Yes. I have Bahorel and Feuilly with me. Minor injuries, nothing to worry about. Bahorel has a cut and Feuilly a blood nose. We’ve already started treating them.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your limp,” Cosette said sharply. “You were favoring your left leg when you came in here.”

“I—”

“No,” she cut him off. "Besides the limp, he has a large bruise forming on his right cheek, I'm guessing he got punched, and small cuts on his arms."

 _“Thank you Cosette for being honest and actually putting people's health first. At least someone around here has some goddamn sense. I’ll let Ferre and Joly know about all of that,”_ Courfeyrac said. _“I’ve got Jehan and R with me right now. Jehan and I are fine, but R got hit pretty hard with a sign.”_ Enjolras tensed. _“We’re going to make our way to HQ as soon as it’s clear enough. Meet you there?”_  

Enjolras nodded. "We'll see you there."

_“Great. Now back to the beautiful lady.”_

Musichetta snorted. _“I’ve got to get back to work and hope my manager doesn’t see the battered revolutionaries hiding out here. I’m not done with you, mister. And Cosette, if you have so much as a papercut when I get home, I’m locking you in our apartment. This is why I can’t leave you alone.”_

“I’ll see you at home,” Cosette promised before Musichetta hung up. “Will you be able to get to wherever you’re going?” she asked Enjolras. 

“I’m fine,” he said stiffly. 

She glared at him. “I’m no doctor, but that limp didn’t look good.”

“It’s from jumping off the stage,” Feuilly said, “isn’t it?”

Enjolras just scowled. 

“Make sure someone looks at it?” she asked Bahorel and Feuilly. They nodded. “Thank you. Now I should probably barricade myself inside before Chetta somehow tracks my phone and realizes I’m still out.”

Feuilly held out the pack of tissues. “The bleeding’s stopped, thanks. And sorry for probably bleeding on you.”

“Of course. And it’s fine. Like I said, I work with kids. There’s plenty of injuries.” Cosette glanced at Enjolras as she pushed open the door. “Please be careful.”

He rolled his eyes. “I always am.”

* * *

Their fifth meeting began with a shout across a bar. 

Camp was over. Cosette loved the kids, but being with them every weekday from nine to five from June 1st to August 28th was exhausting. The moment the last kid left and everything was wrapped up, Musichetta had grabbed her arm and said, “I need a goddamn drink” and dragged her to the nearest bar or “place that sells some sort of alcohol”. Musichetta wasn’t picky.

She ordered a soda, someone had to make sure Musichetta got home, and followed Musichetta to a table in the back when their drinks were in hand. 

At this point, she was so used to it that she didn’t even bat an eye. She just turned when a familiar voice called out, “Cosette?”

Standing in a backroom was Enjolras. 

“What a surprise,” Musichetta muttered, taking a long drink from her glass. 

He was standing on the other side of the backroom, and the room was filled with mostly familiar faces. 

She stepped into the doorway. “Enjolras,” she said with a smile. “What a coincidence. And by coincidence, I mean this is starting to get a little strange.” She lifted a hand in greeting to all of the people she knew. 

Musichetta sighed. “Can I punch you in the face now?”

“There wasn’t a scratch on her,” he said calmly. “Not when she left. If something happened on the way home, I’m not sure how I’d be responsible.”

“You yelled at him, I yelled at him, we’re fine,” Cosette insisted. “Sorry for interrupting. Go back to…” She glanced around the room, “whatever this is.”

“You yelled at him?” Grantaire asked, a smile spreading across his face. 

She shrugged. “I yelled, he yelled, Feuilly asked if he had a concussion, there was lots of bleeding, it was fine.”

“Fine,” Musichetta echoed. “Sure, _fine_.”

“Musichetta yelled at him over the phone, you, Courfeyrac, and Jehan took shelter in a department store. Really, it wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Christ,” Musichetta muttered, taking another sip of her drink.

“This is Musichetta?” Bahorel asked. “Man, your threats are _awesome_.”

She smirked and shrugged. “I do what I can. And those threats are still valid. You hurt her, your body will end up at the bottom of the ocean.”

Enjolras sighed. “Everyone knows Cosette and Musichetta then?”

Two people lifted their hands. 

“Joly,” one said.

“Bossuet,” the other added. 

They stared at Cosette for a long moment. 

“We know,” Cosette said finally. “And no, we don’t know if we’re related.”

Joly glanced back to the front. “This is weird.”

Bossuet nodded. “If you aren’t related, what the fuck.”

“Did you want to join us?” Combeferre asked. 

“Please,” Eponine said from here she sat, half on top of Grantaire. “We need more female voices in here. The whole being the only girl thing got old fast.”

“What are you even doing?” Musichetta asked. “Drinking games?”

“I wish,” Courfeyrac said, “but nope. Drinking games take place after meetings.”

“Speak for yourself,” Grantaire interrupted.

“We’re a social justice group,” Courfeyrac finished. “Most of the time.”

“And I’m still not surprised,” Musichetta said. 

Cosette elbowed her. “Be nice.”

“I’m charming,” Musichetta countered. “Thanks for the invite, but maybe some other time. Personally, I’m going to drink myself into oblivion, sleep for the next forty eight hours, and then eat about ten bags of chips.”

“Excuse me.” Marius squeezed between Musichetta and Cosette into the room. “Sorry I’m late I—” He whirled around. “Cosette?”

“How come Marius knows Enjolras’ twin but we don’t?” Bossuet asked. “I feel like that’s unfair. I’m not sure how, but it feels like it is.”

“We ran into each other,” Cosette said with a smile. “And then we went out for coffee.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Oh, we are well aware of that fact.”

“Ohhhh,” Joly said, like all of the questions in the universe had just been answered. 

“Sorry for interrupting your revolution,” Musichetta said. “But seriously, we’re going to get blackout drunk now.”

“You are,” Cosette corrected. “And no you aren’t, because I’m not carrying you home.”

“Any reason why we’re getting blackout drunk?” Eponine asked. “I mean, I’m all for it, but what’s the occasion?”

“Summer camp is over!” Musichetta announced, lifting her glass in a toast. “No more waking up at seven in the morning to deal with the little devils. I can sleep in, and that is a cause for celebration. Feel free to come join us when you’ve finished planning your world domination.”

* * *

Their sixth meeting began with a knock on the door. 

After the meeting, Enjolras and the rest of the group had taken up Musichetta’s offer and joined them for drinks. It hadn’t been anything special, but her and Musichetta had been absorbed into the group almost immediately, and by the end of the night, it was like they’d always been there.  

Someone, possible Combeferre, had convinced Enjolras to actually start texting Cosette, and they had decided that they should just meet and talk. They were still trying to figure out if they were related or not, but neither of them were sure how they should go about it.

When she opened the door at his knocking, the first thing he said was, “You wear glasses?”

Cosette smiled. “Hi to you too, yes I do, come on in.” She made herself comfortable on the couch and he copied her. “I usually wear contacts,” she said, “because of how much work I do with kids. Kids really love to grab things off your face.”

“It’s just…” Enjolras reached into his bag and pulled out a glasses case. “I do too.”

She snorted. “Even our sucky eyesight is the same, huh?”

“I only wear them around the apartment,” he said. “I don’t like them that much, and with protests, I’d rather not deal with losing them in the chaos and then being blind, especially if things get bad.”

Cosette nodded. “Does that happen a lot?”

Enjolras grimaced. “Unfortunately. We try to keep them peaceful, but with large crowds and usually upset feelings, it can be hard. Sometimes it’s the protesters' fault, sometimes it’s the police's, and usually everyone overreacts. We keep trying though.”

She hummed. “Do you want anything to drink?” 

“Sure. Coffee?”

“Combeferre will kill me for making your caffeine addiction worse,” she teased. 

Enjolras just rolled his eyes. “Like he’s one to talk.”

She stood up and started towards the kitchen. “The bathroom’s the first door on the left if you need it.”

When she returned with two steaming cups and a box of poptarts under her arm, Enjolras was sitting with his laptop balanced on his crossed legs and glasses on.

“Thanks,” he said when she put down his mug. 

“Glasses?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “Figured if we were going to do the whole similarities thing we should go all out. Courfeyrac has been sending me lots pictures of matching outfits.”

Cosette rolled her eyes. “Really?”

“When I told him to stop, Combeferre kindly reminded me that our outfits were matching when we first met. I had a red tie on, you were wearing a red dress.”

“Huh.” She blew on her steaming cup. “Really, I was just wearing it because someone had said that the red ‘brought out my stunning blue eyes’ and I was using it to my advantage.”

“I just like red.” He took his mug and took a careful sip. “By the way, what do you do? I haven’t really figured that out yet. I know you ran a summer camp…”

Cosette curled her legs up under her. “I’m getting my degree in education. I want to be an elementary school teacher. And I help out with my papa’s charities and nonprofits whenever I can. The summer camp was one of those. We basically just took the kids to the park and let them run around and provided lunch for them. It was fun, just really tiring. What about you? What do you do when you aren’t trying to change the world?”

Enjolras pulled his gaze away from the screen. “I’m in school for pre-law. The ABC was something Courf, Ferre, and I came up with freshman year. Everyone you saw at the meeting were our permanent members, and the ones who are really in charge of everything. We have more open meetings on Thursdays. We organize protests and petitions, food drives and community service. It’s all activism work, really.”

“So you’ve known Courfeyrac and Combeferre for a while then?”

“Since high school. Grantaire likes to say that we’re attached at the hip.” The smallest smile ghosted his lips. “Have you known Musichetta long?”

Cosette nodded. “We met sophomore year of high school. She managed to convince my parents to let me go on a week long band trip, despite the fact that most of it would be unsupervised, and for that I’m forever in debted to her. She was the reason they started being less protective. Speaking of Musichetta, are Joly and Bossuet dating?”

Enjolras frowned, like he wasn’t sure how they had anything to do with each other. “Yes. They have been for a while, why?”

She leaned back against the couch. “How do they feel about polyamory?”

His eyebrows raised. “Ah.” He smiled fully this time. “I’m not sure, but I know they both loved Musichetta. I think they’d be completely open to it, they seemed pretty enamored with her. They were fairly drunk, but still.”

“I’ll tell her to ask them, because I know she won’t if there’s even the smallest possibility of making them uncomfortable.” She took a long sip of coffee. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”

Enjolras froze. “No. Why would you say that?” 

Cosette smirked. “Defensive, aren’t we?”

“I’m asexual,” he said quickly.

She nodded. “Alright. Are you aromantic too?”

He stared at her. 

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting.” Enjolras shook his head. “But no, I’m not aromantic. I’m homoromantic.”

She frowned. “What kind of reaction were you expecting?”

He shrugged. “Confusion? Maybe disgust? Not that I think you’re a bad person, but I’ve come to associate those types of reactions with my family.”

Cosette pushed aside the way him calling her family made her heart swell. “Your biological family?”

“Adopted.”

“Well I’m not related to them,” she said. “They didn’t take it well?”

Enjolras sighed. “They weren’t happy when I came out as gay. When I realized I was ace, I didn’t even bother telling them. It wasn’t worth it, and frankly, it’s none of their business. Honestly, I’m just surprised you know what aromanticism is.”

Cosette smiled. “My parents got married the day same sex marriage was legalized in the state. They made it their job to make sure I knew about all sorts of sexualities and genders and that I knew that I was valid, no matter what I identified as. Which I’m working on. I don’t really date much, and I haven’t really sorted out my sexuality. It didn’t seem important to, I figure that I’ll label myself if I find something that feels right.”

“But you like Marius.”

She ducked her head. “Yes, but you already knew that. He’s sweet. What about you and Grantaire?”

Enjolras’ face went blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, emotionless.

“Sure thing, robot. I’ve only been in the same room as you two twice, and I was there when you heard that he got hit by that sign.”

“He’s my friend,” Enjolras insisted. “I worry about all my friends.”

“And you look at all your friends like you look at him,” she teased. “If you aren’t dating, you should be, because it is painfully obvious that you like each other.”

He scoffed. “You don’t know if he likes me or not. Most of our conversations are arguments, he doesn’t like me that way.”

Cosette stared at him. “Are you serious?”

He didn’t respond, just grabbed a pack of poptarts. “So you were in the foster system?”

She rolled her eyes. “Way to change the subject. But yes. For five years before my papa adopted me. He knew my biological mother, and she wanted to see me before she died of cancer. He couldn’t find me in time, and ended up adopting me once he had, he'd promised to get me out of the system. And you were adopted?”

Enjolras nodded. “Out of the foster system, actually. But there was nothing really known about my biological parents, just that I was left for the system. I wasn’t there for long, my parents adopted me fairly soon after I had entered, before they’d even found a family for me, apparently. They wouldn’t have answered questions about my biological family even if they could, they would have thought it was because I didn’t love them.”

Cosette heard the resentment in his voice. “Do you? Love them, that is.”

He looked back to his laptop screen. “I do. Or I did. I’m not sure. They don’t really support me or my ideas. They were happy I’m going into law, but they’re very against the ABC and everything we stand for. And then there’s my sexuality. I guess I’m just lucky they haven’t stopped helping pay for college yet.”

She leaned against his side. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you can do anything.”

“I can give you my sympathy,” she said. “And tell you if you ever want to talk about, I’m here.”

—«·»—

She groaned when the light flashed. She blinked slowly before reaching up to move her glasses from the top of her head to her nose. “Why are you in my apartment?” she asked Courfeyrac. Combeferre stood behind him, shaking his head. 

Enjolras groaned in protest. “It is definitely too early to be up.” He fixed his glasses. “Why are you here?”

“One,” Courfeyrac said, “eleven thirty isn’t too early to be up. Two, Chetta is a doll and let us in. Three, you didn’t come home last night, we were curious.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“We didn’t want to interrupt anything. Did you two know you look very cute and very twin-y when you’re asleep?”

“Right?” Musichetta asked from the kitchen. “You two are fucking _adorable_.”

Enjolras frowned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What would you be interrupting?”

“Courfeyrac bet me ten dollars you were with Grantaire,” Combeferre said. “I said you were probably here, and now he owes me money.”

“Yeah, way to crush my dreams.” Courfeyrac ruffled Enjolras’ hair. “Disappointing.”

“Tell me about it,” Cosette agreed. Enjolras gave her a betrayed look. “Hey, I am stepping into my role as possible sister. I am going to bug you about this until you break and admit you have a giant crush on him.” She poked his side. “Besides, you didn’t deny that you like him last night.”

“You talked about Grantaire?” Combeferre asked. 

“We talked about a lot of things,” Enjolras said swiftly. “Like your love life.”

Cosette smiled as Combeferre’s eyes went wide and he took a small step away from Courfeyrac before clearing his throat and saying, “More like my lack of one.”

She pushed herself off the couch. “Seeing that all we ate last night was a box of poptarts, do you want something to eat?”

“Can you extend that invitation to us?” Courfeyrac asked. “Because we aren’t real friends until we've eaten you out of house and home.”

* * *

Their seventh meeting began with a tense introduction. 

Cosette sat her parents down at the table, knowing how it was going to sound and look initially, but otherwise, unsure how to go about it. "I have something to tell you."

"If you say you're pregnant," Javert said, "I'm standing up and leaving."

Jean started coughing. "Don't," he said, once he was breathing properly. "Javert, don't even joke about that." He turned to Cosette. "You aren't, right?"

"No, I'm not pregnant," she promised. "I don't plan on being pregnant any time soon, so don't worry about that. And...okay maybe this will be easier if I just ask."

They both nodded. 

"Do you know an Enjolras?" 

Javert shook his head, and slowly, Jean did the same. 

She sighed and sat back in her chair. "Alright, well—"

"Are you dating him?" Javert asked. 

"I'm not. He wouldn't be interested anyway. The point is, he's picking me up, him and a bunch of his friends are going to some sort of rally and they invited me. Of course," she said quickly, "I'll be safe and careful, and I'll call you as soon as it's over or if we run into any trouble. But I wanted to warn you—"

The doorbell rang, and Javert stood to get it. She raced after him, skidding to a stop as he opened the door, staring at Enjolras in shock. 

"This," she said. "I was going to warn you about this." She sighed and said, "Enjolras, this is my dad, Javert. And behind me is my papa, Jean."

Enjolras nodded stiffly. "Hello."

"The resemblance is remarkable," Jean said.

"Yeah, we know. One of our friends talked for almost an hour about our facial structure." Cosette took a breath. "We just... I was asking if you knew him, because I was wondering if...my mother ever..."

Jean shook his head. "I don't believe she ever said anything about you having a brother."

Musichetta hurried up the walkway and linked her and Enjolras' arms. "Hello, it's so nice to see you again!"

"Musichetta," Javert said with a nod. "You know Enjolras?"

She nodded. "I met him at the same event Cosette did, and he's a friend of my boyfriends'." She beamed at the word boyfriends. 

"This rally," he went on, "what is it for?"

"Trans rights," Enjolras said immediately. "We didn't organize it, but some people from the college me and my friends go to did. And of course, we're going to support the cause."

"I'll keep her safe," Musichetta promised, tugging on Cosette's arm. "It's a bit of drive, so we really should be going. We'll keep you updated! And we'll come to dinner some time? It was lovely seeing you!" She dragged Cosette out the door, and down the path just as quickly. 

"Thank you," Cosette said, squeezing Musichetta's arm. 

"Sure thing, dear, you guys were kind of floundering." She patted Enjolras' shoulder. "E, you were charming as ever."

"Dad almost went into interrogation mode, and there would've been no hope after that," Cosette said. "I was going to warn them, but I didn't do it fast enough, sorry."

"How'd meeting the 'rents go?" Grantaire asked as they opened the van door. 

Enjolras stared at him and flatly said, "They hate me."

"They don't hate you," Cosette insisted, sitting in an open seat. "They were surprised. Caught off guard. They'll love you. If you never let them find out about your arrest record. Please never _ever_ let them find out that you have an arrest record. This is a huge van."

Bahorel patted the center console. "It hold seventeen people."

"Usually," Feuilly added, "the extra space is for banners and signs and supplies. We've never actually had seventeen people in here at once."

"So do they know Enj?" Courfeyrac asked, looking up from where he was braiding Jehan's hair.

"That'd be a negative," Musichetta said. 

"Enjolras said one of your parents knew your mother," Combeferre said. 

"Both of them did," Cosette corrected. "Why?"

"Any chance you can get a last name out of them?" Joly asked. "Maybe if you had a last name you could find out more about her, maybe get medical records or something. Birth certificates, things that would actually prove you're related."

"It's worth a shot," Bossuet said. "I mean, you haven't _really_ tried to figure this out, have you?"

Both Cosette and Enjolras sighed. "Not really."

* * *

Their eighth meeting began with a sudden downpour. 

She'd been on her way back to the apartment. The sky had been dark and cloudy all day, and she was hoping to get inside before it started raining. 

The weather was not in her favor. 

It didn’t start with a drizzle, it started with the sky opening up and releasing buckets of water from the clouds. The streets were abandoned aside from the occasional car that braved the flooding streets. 

She stopped in her tracks when she saw him, red coat open and curls plastered to his forehead by the rain. He was staring ahead at nothing, shoulders slumped, not moving to get out of the rain. 

“Enjolras?”

He lifted his head, but didn’t turn to look at her. Cosette walked over, shoving her dripping hair away from her eyes. 

“Enjolras?” she asked. “Why are you out here?”

He swallowed. “My mother’s in the hospital,” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” She shuffled closer so their arms were touching. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I… I don’t really know what to do.”

Cosette hesitated before asking, “Is it bad?”

Enjolras looked to the ground, rain running down his face. “I assume it is.”

“Do you want to visit?”

“I told you how she is.” He blinked raindrops off his eyelashes. “I don’t know what to do, or what I’m even feeling. Because despite everything that’s happened, and everything that she’s said about me and my beliefs and who I am, she’s my mother. Does that make sense?”

Cosette nodded. “Of course. You still have happy memories of her, when you were little and she kissed your boo-boos better, when she picked you up from school, when she read you bedtime stories. I know you have them, you told me about them. You may not love who she is now, but you love who you thought she was.”

“What do I do?” His voice cracked at the last word. “Part of me feels like I should be there, the other doesn’t want to be anywhere near my family. I just… Tell me what to do Cosette.”

The first thing that she thought to do was hug him. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. He nearly collapsed onto her, burying his face into the crook of her neck and trembling slightly. 

“This is what we’re going to do,” she said softly. “We’re going to get you home, well, to my apartment because it’s close, and out of this rain.” She pulled away a little and brushed his wet curls out of his eyes. “If anything, all you’ll get from standing out here is a cold. Or pneumonia, so let’s not tell Joly about this. Okay?” He nodded and she smiled. “So we’ll get you home, dry you off, get you in warm clothes, make hot chocolate, and watch Disney movies until we fall asleep. We’ll deal with everything else in the morning, okay?”

Enjolras nodded again. His eyes were red, but she couldn’t tell if he’d been crying. Still, she wiped the rain and possible tears from his cheeks and kissed both before wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him in the direction of her apartment.

—«·»—

A few hours later, they were curled up on the couch and twenty minutes into the Black Cauldron.

When they arrived, dripping wet and shaking from the cold, Musichetta had said nothing. She handed Cosette a few towels and then retreated to her bedroom. Cosette had found a pair of oversized sweatpants and a large tshirt from an event, and given them and a towel to Enjolras. He changed in the bathroom while she changed in her room. They hung their wet clothes over chairs at the kitchen table to dry. Then he sat on the cover of the toilet while she sat on the back of it and blow dried his hair. 

When they finally made it to the couch, they’d curled up together and wrapped themselves in a blanket. The last time Enjolras was over, they’d kept a bit of a distance between each other, even when they’d fallen asleep. Now, their legs were tangled, and Enjolras wouldn’t let go of her hand. The lost look in his eyes had been fading throughout the night, but it was still there, and it worried her. He hadn’t said a word since she’d hugged him.

Enjolras’ phone shocked them out of the silence they had settled into. Enjolras answered it after glancing at the screen, his voice slightly hoarse. “I’m fine,” he said automatically. 

She heard Combeferre ask, _“Thank god, but where are you? It’s almost midnight, we haven’t seen or heard from you since you left this morning.”_  

“I…” 

She squeezed his hand and leaned into his side. 

“I’m at Cosette’s. Something...happened. I’m fine but—” He sighed. “I needed space.”

“Can I talk to him?” she asked softly. 

Enjolras nodded and handed over the phone. 

She squeezed his hand again and got up from the couch. “I’ll be back in a minute.” When she reached the kitchen, she leaned against the counter and said, “Hi, Ferre.”

 _“Cosette, what’s wrong?_ ” His voice was edged with worry. 

She glanced towards the door. “His mother’s sick and in the hospital. I found him standing in the rain, so I brought him home and told him we’d watch movies until we passed out and deal with it in the morning.”

Combeferre sighed. 

“I… I hope that’s okay.”

 _“Cosette, it’s fine. Thank you. He always close up when it comes to his family, he always has. Courf and I know his family properly, we’ve known him since high school, and he doesn’t even talk to us about them. I’m glad you found him. We were just worried.”_  

“I’ll bring him around tomorrow,” she promised. “And I’m worried about him too. He just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this before.” She shook her head. “No, I definitely haven't.”

_“It happens. Not often, but it does. Courfeyrac and I won’t push it tomorrow, in case you were wondering about that. We’ll let him tell us in his own time.”_

“Thank you.” She reached for the kitchen door. “Do you want to say goodbye and goodnight?”

 _“Please_.”

Cosette made her way back over to the couch, making herself comfortable against Enjolras’ side as she heard Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s goodnights through the phone. 

By the time they unpaused the movie, he was holding her hand again. 

* * *

Their ninth meeting began with a phone call. 

Cosette pushed her glasses to the top of her head and answered her phone. “Hey, Papa. How are you?”

_“I’m good. Is there any chance you can get Enjolras on with you?”_

She frowned and pushed away her laptop. “I can try calling him, but he’s visiting his family. His mother’s in the hospital, so I’ll try my best, but no promises.”

 _“That’s all I ask,_ ” Jean said, and she could hear the nervousness in his voice. 

She tried to ignore it as she texted Enjolras. 

 **8:24  
** **To: Enj**  
 **From: Cosette <3**  
    You in the hospital rn?

 **8:26  
** **To: Cosette <3**  
 **From: Enj**  
    Yes, why?

 **8:26  
** **To: Enj**  
**From: Cosette <3**  
    Papa wants to talk to us  
    Together  
    Papa is Jean, btw. Not the former cop  
    He sounds on edge  
    Can you take five minutes away from your family?   
    It’s fine if you can’t

She was secretly worried about him. She wouldn’t say it to his face, but she had said to Musichetta and to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. He’d left in the morning still unsure what to do, but when he heard his mother was quickly getting worse, he decided to see her for at least a day.  

Cosette didn’t like the things she heard about his family. It wasn’t as though they had completely shunned him, but they told him they didn’t approve, and he’d clearly cut as many ties as he could. Tensions ran high when someone was seriously ill, she didn’t want him to get hurt.

 **8:28  
** **To: Cosette <3**  
 **From: Enj**  
    If he talks to us right now, then I can 

Cosette added him to the call. 

_“Hello?”_

She smiled to herself. “Hi, Enjolras.”

 _“Hello_ ,” Jean repeated. 

_“Cosette said you wanted to talk to me?”_

_“Ah, yes.”_ Jean cleared his throat. _“I was thinking about Fantine, and I remembered something she said to me once. Nothing specific I’m afraid, just ‘they’ve taken one of my angels, don’t let them take her too’.”_

Cosette held her breath. She heard Enjolras inhale sharply. 

_“I pulled records. It took some searching, but I found the hospital Fantine gave birth to you in, Cosette.”_

“You did?” she asked, not even sure if her voice was loud enough to be heard. 

_“On November 9th, 1993, Fantine gave birth to a pair of twins— Euphrasie and Enjolras.”_

* * *

Their tenth meeting began with a hug. 

After Jean had left the call, Cosette had stayed on with Enjolras for over an hour. They hadn't even talked the whole time, sometimes they just listened to each other breathe. 

"I'm not crying," she promised at one point, sniffing and wiping her eyes. "I'm not crying."

Enjolras laughed. "I'm not crying either," he had said, his voice wavering. "Definitely not crying."

They hadn't talked much since then, he was still with his family and she had a paper due for one of her classes. Mostly, they'd both been letting it settle in that they were twins. They didn't just look alike, they weren't just siblings, they were twins. 

She was sitting in the café with Marius. It was a dreary day out, and the whole of the ABC had relocated to it because, despite Grantaire and several others' protests, it was far too early for alcohol. 

Marius' arm was wrapped comfortably around her shoulders as she sipped her tea and listened to a dramatic story Courfeyrac was telling, while Combeferre made corrections and smiled fondly. Eponine was technically working, but the ABC were the only customers she had, and she was laughing with Bahorel and Feuilly. Grantaire and Jehan were debating while they made cranes out of napkins. Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet were tangled together, taking selfies on Musichetta's new phone. 

Her and Enjolras had decided not to tell them yet. They were still getting used to it, she'd sat on her bed and just said "I'm Enjolras' twin" to herself for about an hour the night they found out. They were going to tell them all together, so they could get it over with in one go, and everyone could exchange the bets they knew everyone had made. 

She put her cup on the table and shook her head as Courfeyrac threw his arms out. Combeferre expertly leaned out of the way, something she was sure he was used to doing. 

"And that's exactly what happened," Courfeyrac said seriously, reaching for his coffee. 

Combeferre pulled it away from him. "I think you've had enough."

"Says _you_?" Courfeyrac asked, raising his eyebrows. "Marius, how bad is Ferre's caffeine addiction?"

"Pretty bad," Marius admitted. "But yours is pretty bad too, Courf."

Courfeyrac leaned against Combeferre's side and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. "You wound me, Marius. Et tu, Marius?"

Marius just shrugged and rattled off a reply in Latin.

Courfeyrac narrowed his eyes and let his hand flop. "Way to make us all feel inferior, Pontmercy."

The bell jingled as the door opened. All Cosette had to see was the flash of a red coat to be out of her chair and throwing her arms around Enjolras. She pulled away quickly. 

"Sorry, is hugging a thing you like? If it isn't I'm really sorry, I just—"

He smiled. "I'm fine with hugging."

"Oh thank god." She hugged him again, shutting her eyes and forcing herself not to cry. "I'm not crying," she promised softly. 

"I'm not crying either." He laughed softly. "Euphrasie?"

Cosette pulled away. "Says the man she named Enjolras."

"Euphrasie and Enjolras. We sound nice together." 

She beamed, then remembered all of their friends behind them. "Don't you dare," she whispered. 

Enjolras just smirked and raised his voice, saying, "You've all met my twin sister, Euphrasie?" 

Musichetta fell out of the pile of limbs and gasped. "No way!" 

Everyone else just blinked. 

"I think I'm missing something," Courfeyrac said. 

Cosette smiled. "My birth name is Euphrasie."

—«·»—

"It's like the ending of some really cheesy movie," Courfeyrac said. "I'm not sure where it fits. It's not really coming of age. Maybe a rom-com? Except I think you kind of failed on the successful romantic fairy tale happy ending of the rom-com."

Cosette scoffed and wrapped her arm around Marius. "Excuse you, _I_ did fine on the happy romantic ending. I've got my love interest," Marius blushed furiously, "and Musichetta has hers. So on my side, we're two for two. It's Enjolras' side that failed miserably."

Enjolras leaned forward in the seat he'd pulled over. He glanced over the table. "Hand holding counts," he said, sitting back, smiling. "So there's that."

"What?" Courfeyrac asked, turning red. "Can't two dudes hold hands? Like platonically and stuff? No romo?"

Combeferre just looked away and purposefully put his hands on the table. 

"Besides!" Courfeyrac stuttered. "We aren't even the main characters! I mean, honestly, to be a successful rom-com, _you'd_ need to be the one with a fulfilled romantic life, not us. Ha! Check and mate!"

Enjolras shook his head. "See, that was never part of my plot, anyway, so—"

"What about Grantaire?" Marius asked. 

Enjolras glared at him. Cosette just smiled. 

"Yeah, Enjolras," she said. "What about Grantaire? And I swear to god, if you say he doesn't like you one more time, I'm going to lock you two in a room together."

"I don't see why that'd work," Enjolras said, crossing his arms.

"I do," Courfeyrac said. 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "So I assume if I locked you and Ferre in a room together, you'd admit you like each other?" 

Combeferre continued to deliberately not look at Courfeyrac. 

Courfeyrac just said "That's not fair!" before laughing. "Not fair, not Ferre! Oh my god, I'm hilarious!"

"Hey what are we talking about?" Grantaire asked, spinning the chair he'd dragged over before sitting down in it. He casually draped an arm over the back of Enjolras' chair. 

"You," Cosette said. She raised her eyebrows at Enjolras. 

Grantaire stiffened. "What?"

"I call for non-interference," Enjolras said, narrowing his eyes. 

"And I'm ignoring that," she said sweetly. "I feel like it's my duty as your sister to not listen to you. And I have almost twenty years to make up for."

"Um, why were you talking about me?" Grantaire asked. "Because that's a little ominous."

Cosette twirled a curl around her finger. " _Well_ , Courf was comparing this to the ending of a rom-com."

"How do I fit into that?"

She shrugged. "Go through the endings for the characters."

"Um, okay? Let's do this right." Grantaire cleared his throat. "Cosette, our lovely leading lady, has found her long lost twin brother and has a serious and cavity inducing relationship with the handsome Marius. Her best friend, the daring Musichetta, has found happiness with the joly Joly and Bossuet, who used up all his luck ending up with Musichetta and Joly. A worthy trade in his opinion. The brave Enjolras, our darling Apollo, has found his Artemis at last. And his best friends, the center and guide, Courfeyrac and Combeferre, have finally found each other, whether they're willing to admit it to themselves, each other, their friends, and the world," he said dramatically. 

"I'm impressed," Cosette said, noticing Combeferre and Courfeyrac leaning away from each other, "but you've missed something."

"What did I miss? I mean, those were the main characters, right?"

"But it's incomplete," she said. "One character is missing something that all the others have."

Grantaire frowned, looking up as he thought it over. 

"Here's a hint, you've missed your role." 

He glanced to her. "Wait, but the only thing that's different is that Enjolras doesn't have a lov—" His eyes widened. 

"Yup, that's our cue," Courfeyrac said. "I want cake, Ferre, let's get cake." He jumped out of his chair and grabbed Combeferre's hand, dragging him towards the counter. 

Grantaire moved his arm from the back of Enjolras' chair, and Enjolras glanced away. 

Cosette smiled and pushed her tea towards Enjolras. "I think you two should talk," she said, pulling Marius to his feet. 

She glanced over her shoulder as they walked towards Eponine. Enjolras and Grantaire were staring at each other, each of them blushing bright red. She wondered when they'd notice how close together they were. 

—«·»—

Cosette leaned against the lamppost outside the café, her hands buried in her coat, and her hair moving with the gentle wind. She lifted her gaze to the sky, and smiled at the rolling gray clouds. 

Enjolras leaned against the other side of the lamppost, his red coat open as always. He smiled at her before raising his head to the sky. "You left Marius inside."

"Eponine wanted to teach him how to dance. Be honest, how bad is he?"

"Oh god, he's awful."

They laughed, and she rested her head against the lamppost.

"All set?" she asked. 

His smile grew. "I suppose you want me to thank you for interfering?"

"You could, but your happiness is enough thanks," she turned her head to look at him. 

He did the same. "Really?"  

"Really. That's what real family is. They're there for support, there to make the rest of their family members happy. At least, that's what family is in my experience. Unconditional love and all that." She tugged on his sleeve and he moved so the lamppost was no longer separating them.  

"Then the ABC is more my family than anyone else," he mused. 

"Makes sense. They're sort of becoming my family too." She smiled. "And then there's you."

"Then there's me," he repeated. 

"Are you going to be okay?"

He hesitated before nodding. "I'll be fine. I don't know if it was a good idea visiting, but I don't regret it. Not yet."

"Then I don't think you will," she said. "At least you've made your peace with the situation."

"I've made my peace, and I was able to come home to my real family," he added. "And then there's you."

"Then there's me." 

They stood in a comfortable silence, watching the clouds roll. Their family was behind them, inside a bright and warm café, laughing and smiling and loving. Her parents were in their house on the other side of town, supportive and overprotective and caring. Her twin brother was standing next to her, strong and confident and solid. Passionate and fiery and determined. 

She'd never felt like she was missing something, like she needed someone to complete her. She never bought into the whole other half thing. She was a whole person, she was a complete human being. She didn't need a romantic partner to make herself whole. And Marius didn't. She loved him, and she loved the fact that he wasn't perfect and he wasn't made for her and they weren't a single soul that had been split in two.

This was different. Enjolras filled all the spaces that she hadn't known existed. She didn't need him to survive, but he made it easier. Everything fit together more. He was rage and stone, she was flowers and gentleness. They complimented and reflected each other. Their passion ebbed and flowed in different forms, taking different shapes and different paths. And still, as she stood against the lamppost with him, they felt like the same person. Standing there, she could understand the idea of split souls. 

"Happy fairy tale endings all around?" Cosette asked. 

Enjolras laughed. "I don't really believe in fairy tale endings." 

He took her hand in his own as he looked back up towards the clouds. 

"But yeah, happy fairy tale endings all around."

**Author's Note:**

> Arbitrary dates are arbitrary. 
> 
> Fun fact: the Courferre was originally meant to be like 'Courferre if you squint and turn your head thirty degrees' but that isn't my style. I'm an all or nothing type of girl, none of this head tilting business.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://wearetheseven.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi!


End file.
